


In Which the Company Gains a Stalker

by Elvesliketrees



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Dori seriously needs to overreact less, Gen, Humor, Poor Bilbo!, Tiny bit of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 12:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3209114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvesliketrees/pseuds/Elvesliketrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin and his company have returned to Erebor, but there is something lurking in the shadows. And why does it always insist on doing good deeds? And why can they not find their hobbit?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which the Company Gains a Stalker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shily](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=shily).



> This fic is dedicated to shily, who gave me the wonderful prompt in my first fanfic. This can either be read as a sort of extension of "I Stand in the Sun and Weep" or can be read by itself. I was initially going for something way more serious (as the prompt was Bilbo getting hurt and Thorin living) but I decided against it once I got a little deeper into the story. Warning for gratuitous swearing (seriously), stalking, and nudity. For the stalking, you should know the identity of our "stalker" after the first POV, and the entire fic is basically one big misunderstanding.

This was all Bilbo’s fault. The men standing over their dead wives, weapons that should never have been there clasped in their cold hands. The elves staring at the dead with a morbid fascination, for battle had no place in the minds of the immortal race. The dwarves, running around with a disciplined and knowledgeable air, carting the dead and wounded, burning the vermin. He could see neither hide nor hair of his dwarves. The company who’d finally made him feel whole again, his family. This was all his fault. If Thorin hadn’t been so busy trying to find the Arkenstone, or if the elves and men hadn’t angered Thorin by accepting it, maybe they could have been warned of the attack, been better prepared. This all might have been prevented if not for one small, damnable halfling. If he hadn’t been banished from the mountain, he might have tried to help. No, Thorin was in the right banishing him. He had stolen from a king, and he deserved to be punished. But how could one make up for so much death and destruction? If he helped others, isn’t each help worth a death? But no, improving a life did not make up for taking one, yet try he must. He knew that he would never see his Shire again. Never again would he wake up to Hamfast humming in the garden or his cousins giggling under his window. Never again would he stroll across the rolling hills and look at the river that meandered through the Shire. But that was nothing compared to the duties he now had here. He looked down at Thorin, who was an arm’s length away and unconscious, and he lightly knocked his forehead to the king’s. “Good-bye my friend, my family, and my king,” he whispered. He hid behind a rock as Dwalin came up the stairs, bellowing Thorin’s name. He heard the dwarf find his king and go sprinting down the stairs. He hoped that the company was alright, but at least he knew that Dwalin and Thorin were alive. He hoped that Fili and Kili were alright, he wondered where they were at, he knew that they’d went with their uncle and mentor, but he’d seen neither hide nor hair of them. He slipped past the dwarves milling around Ravenhill and skirted around camp. Luckily, he’d left a rope hanging down from a balcony in Erebor, just in case he’d needed to escape. He encountered some guards that were milling about the edge of the battle, but he had snuck around them easily. He found his rope and climbed up the side of the mountain. He should have given Thorin the Arkenstone. It was his by right, the entire reason that they had come here. But then he remembered Balin’s words, the fact that the gem would have driven the dwarf madder did not sit well in the hobbit’s heart. In the end, he’d made the best decision he could and had to live with it. Even if he was not fully to blame, there were other solutions. He could have given the armies the Arkenstone earlier and left them time to prepare. He didn’t have to give the Arkenstone to Thorin, he could have given it to Gandalf. No, he was partially responsible for this, and he’d fix it. He reached the balcony and climbed into the chamber within. He remembered Bofur showing him the entrance to the mines in their only free hour of the day. The caverns, those deep places that the dwarves had discovered but never inhabited, were about a mile’s walk. He remembered Dwalin telling him that he’d been sent on an errand to his father who was at the mine entrance, had gotten lost (as he was a dwarfling and had never gone there before) and had ended up in the caverns instead. It had taken search parties two days to find him again, and he’d only been the first in a series of caverns. Yes, they were the perfect place to hide and to sleep in. He would use it as a base for his good deeds, of course. The caverns would serve perfectly, they were a maze of tunnels and caves, and they were fairly close to the forges, so they were warm. He made his way to the caverns and descended into the deep darkness of Erebor.

\---

Oin cursed himself quietly (he hoped) as he bustled about the newly-renovated healing halls. They had just moved everyone into the mountain a week ago, and he was still getting his footing. Since the people of Laketown were homeless, it was agreed that they would stay here through the winter, as there was no way that they could build themselves shelter in time. The healer flitted from patient to patient, as there were still many wounded from the battle. There were some elven soldiers, though Thranduil had taken most of his people home two days before with a promise to return for the wounded. There were also many young children of Men, too many for Oin’s liking, and some women. He understood that they’d come charging into the battle in the middle of the worst fighting, and their entrance had changed the tide in Dale. He found their bravery to be befitting to any dwarrowdam. Two elven healers were also amongst the wounded. While he might still resent Thranduil some things, he couldn’t say that his people weren’t a help. One of the male elves, he believed his name was Telu, came up to the head healer.

“Master dwarf?” he asked.

“Aye, what can I do ya for lad?” Oin asked as he mixed a poultice.

“We are almost out of the herbs needed for infection,” the elf sighed. Oin grimaced. Their supplies were limited and after caring for all three races, they were in hot water.

“Oh lad, the supplies aren’t due for a week, and if we don’t have no more, then we’ll have to wait. The damn dragon burned the plants here, and we’ve already scoured both Laketown and Mirkwood!” he sighed in frustration.

“So if we run out…” the elf said quietly.

“We’ll have to wait fer supplies, either way,” Oin said.

“But some of the more dire cases here,” the elf whispered. Oin looked into green eyes and his heart clenched. The elves lived for thousands of years, they knew not the sting of battle, not as his people did. Oin squeezed the healer’s forearm and tried to crack a smile. He would go to the council today and inform Thorin, little good it would do. The king was up and walking, though he’d commanded him to two weeks bedrest. The princes were both awake, but Thorin had threatened to tie them to their beds if they didn’t obey his every command. He would be amused if the king actually carried out his threat. The next morning, he found a basket filled with herbs at his door. Every week they came, though he knew not where.

\---

Gloin had many things to worry about. A stranger was gifting his brother herbs (they’d been tested and found to cure infections)! Though this was seen by most as a gift from Mahal himself, someone had been following his brother! And now the damned treasury was vanishing into thin air! There was a big hill of coins that was slowly getting less and less.

“Are you sure that none have entered?” Thorin sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“None, I can assure ya coz!” Gloin said stoutly, “I’ve got guards on the place, and they haven’t seen any pass under the arch!”

“We’ll have to wait and see. We can afford to lose some gold, but we also need it for trade, we cannot lose much more,” Thorin said. When Gloin tallied again that week, the count was only minus one hundred gold coins. That was something that they could easily afford and was mostly likely an accounting error. It wasn’t like the room was full of bright, shiny objects or anything! Now that he had fixed the treasury, it was time to find a stalker (not that his big brother couldn’t take care of himself)!

\---

Bifur’s head was on fire! He’d been confined to bed for a week, though he’d protested and told Bofur was fine. This morning, he’d pseudo-convinced his cousin to leave him be, though he must remain in bed, under pain of extra medicinal herbs that had no effect at all on his head-ache. Bofur was down inspecting the mines and Bombur was down in the kitchen. They’d both made him promise to stay in bed. A knock was heard on the door. Oh Mahal damn it! Who was insane enough to visit a berserker, his slightly alcoholic (not really) cousin, and said alcoholic’s (not really) extremely shy brother?! It better not be a guard summoning him to council. He staggered out of bed and knew exactly why Bofur had confined him to bed. When he finally made it to the door after five rests/collapses he found a note on the other side.

For Bifur’s Headaches:

On the note was a list of ingredients! Bifur sprinted his way to Oin’s where he was promptly scolded and treated, in that order. Bofur came back and said something about having to attend a council because of a stalker who was following the company, he hadn’t seen anything weird had he? Too bad his cousin soon found the note, he’d found the stalker’s deeds rather noble in a weird...stalkerish way. Apparently they were off to a council meeting,and also were going to have a talk about opening the door to strangers unarmed. Sometimes he wondered if his cousin realized that he’d changed both his and Bombur’s nappies when they were dwarflings, and that they’d also streaked naked into the forges once.

\---

Bofur was reluctant to go back to the mines, but he knew that they needed inspecting. He’d told Bifur that he wasn’t to answer the door unarmed, and his cousin could defend himself, more than defend himself to be frank. Ah well, this stalker thing would be over soon enough, Dwalin would cut his head off and then him and Nori would laugh it off after getting drunk in the tavern. He greeted his fellow miners as they went down into the depths of Erebor, he asked one how his now-pregnant wife, who was a healer from the Iron Hills, was. They had discovered a new seam of gold yesterday and were preparing to delve into it today. The first day was always the worst, they had the shoring up but hadn’t really begun to look at the cave yet. Bofur entered first, holding up his lantern. When he called out to the other miners, they slowly entered the cavern. Then he heard the shaking.

“RUN!!!!” he screamed. He was the inspector, first in and last out. When all the miners were ahead of him he began to run. The tunnel collapsed behind him, he wasn’t going fast enough! A force suddenly pushed him from behind and he flew out of the tunnel and rolled. He picked himself up and dusted off his hat.

“So, which one of you pushed me?” he said with a slight note of hysteria.

\---

Bombur aggressively stirred the stew he was making. His cousin was opening the door for stalkers, and his brother had almost made the decision to continue his life as a fucking pancake! Was he the only sane one in his family?! Maybe Bifur would bash his head into wall next...oh wait he’d done that in the early days. Ah well, they were still insane! He wished Lomi were here, she would beat them over the head with her frying-pan and frighten them into sanity! How he missed her and his five little bairns! Oh well, they were on their way, and that had to be solace enough for now. He wished that they’d get rid of this stalker before his babies came here. He went back to his meager store of spices and found that somebody had refilled them…

\---

Balin was going to bang his head into a wall. Maybe then he could take sick leave. Oh yes, concussion equaled un-straightened thinking equaled bad council, and who was he to give his king bad council? He’d spent all day in the treasure chamber, frantically searching for the robes of the high counselor. The elves would be here tomorrow and they needed to receive them officially. He needed those robes and he could.Not.Find them. The concussion was Plan B. He sighed tiredly and walked into his room to institute Plan B. He did not squeal delightedly when he found the robes on his bed, and then run to report to Thorin on the stalker activity.

\---

Someone was stalking his older brother. His. Older. Brother. The one that taught him that underwear was really fine for two days, no matter what Mam said (though don’t ever tell her that, ever). Well, said stalker was going to get an axe up his arse, here and now. No one stalked his older brother. No. One. Dwalin followed the slight dust trail from the room and down into the lower levels of Erebor. He heard the scuffling and took off. A cliff was to one side and a wall to the other. He had him now! He rounded the corner and went too fast, and he went over the edge. He was able to grasp onto a ledge, but he knew that no one would be around to help him, when a rope was thrown over the edge. He climbed up it and panted.

“Until tomorrow,” he hissed. No one stalked his older brother.

\---

Nori sighed and shook his head. He was never going to infiltrate this group. With more dwarves from the Iron Hills came more crime. This ring was causing a good deal of trouble and Nori had finally discovered where they were situated. But they wouldn’t let him in, at all. Was it the hair? Maybe his hair was too recognizable, Dori had always said that it was, for all the “non-supportiveness” that he’d shown for his brother’s choice of career. Maybe he’d dye it, though Dori would kill him. Well, death by Dori was much better than death by random-arse criminal. Dori would scream you to death and knives hurt! He was about to resign himself to dye (maybe black, black was always a good color) when he found the pages. Pages upon pages of conversations. Evidence. Proof. Maybe stalkers weren’t that bad after all, that was until Dori found the proof.

\---

Ori tightened his belt as he walked to the library. Dori had insisted forcefully that he take his knife. He didn’t understand why, no one would stalk unimportant him! Well, he or she had been insane enough to stalk Balin and Nori so maybe he better be careful. Going to the library was bittersweet. He’d found a book yesterday in Quenya, but since nobody could read it (including him, and he was the head librarian) he was going to have to put it back today. When he went in, the book was nowhere to be found. Ah well, maybe one of the apprentices disposed of it. When both book and translation showed up a week later, Ori was officially important enough to stalk.

“DORI!!!” he howled as he raced down the hall, waving the translation.

\---

Dori sat in his chair and waited. No one stalked his baby brothers. Not today, not yesterday, not ever. Ori was barely of age! Just think of what that heathen could do to his innocent baby brother! And Nori, his brave and wiley Nori! Who was stupid enough to stalk the Spymaster?! Dori set down his tea, which he’d been passively aggressively sipping, and polished his flail. That stalker would surely break into their home. Well. Not in his house. Nori and Ori were safely ensconced in the furthest bedroom from the door, they’d given many whines and protested, but they stopped once he’d locked the door and sweetly wished them goodnight. Nori had tried to pick it, but Nori had learned pickpocketing from somewhere. Dori had just never thought that his sometimes-stupid brother would make a fucking career out of it. And to top it off, the guilds were at one another’s throats! It was such a complicated mess that even Dori couldn’t polite his way through it! Well, stalker first, guildsmen that he was going to murder later. The stalker needed to die first. Nori hated it when Dori locked him in his room, though it was always for safety reasons (yes the preservation of Dori’s sanity was a safety reason). The fact that he’d lured both brothers into the room using bits of cooked meat was slightly humorous. He’d have to remember that for future reference. When there was a great banging on his door, he knew that it was time. Bifur had said that the stalker had knocked, weird though that was. He picked up the flail and swung it menacingly. One could never practice their snarl too many times. He’d nail the bastard right in the stones first, let him know what he thought about such ideas towards his brothers. He swung the flail up, hard as he could, and he was a strong dwarrow. There was a squeal and a thud. He looked down to see Thorin writhing on the floor, his unmentionables grasped firmly in his hands.

“Thorin?” Dori asked wonderingly. Aw fuck. He’d just nailed the king in his stones. Nori was going to find this absolutely hilarious, and he might too after a few cups of wine.

“I wanted to see how Nori and Ori were doing, and you had a package,” Thorin groaned. Dori opened it to find a letter.

“Oh this solution is absolutely brilliant, it will fix everything!” he enthused. He continued commenting as he walked back into his home and swung the door shut. Thorin groaned out a good-night and staggered home.

\---

Thorin sat and contemplated his life as he shoved ice down his pants. His poor, poor stones. Ah well, they were called stones for a reason, and they would get over it. He sighed in relief as the ice finally started to work. Dwalin had given him a smile as he’d staggered to his room and shut the door. Well, the stalker was still on the loose and he had better things to think over. Fili was in his own chambers now, though Kili was still with the healers. He knew that he should be looking over the mounds of paperwork that was on his desk, but his thoughts drifted towards his family. What he wouldn’t give to see Dis, though she would probably kill him for what happened to the boys when she saw their wounds. He peered around the mounds of paperwork to see a small flash of gold. He picked it up and gasped. He’d thought it was gone! His mother had given him a locket with her and father on one side and the three of them on the other, but he’d put it with the treasure for safe-keeping! He gazed at it lovingly. He’d sacrificed much to get here, and so had others. They hadn’t found Bilbo, either alive or dead, and none of the others had seen hide nor hair of him. He wished he could have apologized to the hobbit, but he was forced to account him amongst the dead. They were to hold a memorial next week, there, Thorin would lift the banishment. When Fili crashed into his bedroom,Thorin was a little surprised.

“Uncle, Dwalin said that the Heirs of Durin were at risk and that you needed ice, what’s the matter?!” he cried. Fucking Dwalin.

\---

Kili chose not to explain why there was a new book everyday at his bedside.

\---

When Fili’s maid proceeded to flirt with him, he thought it was cute. When she wouldn’t stop, that wasn’t cute. When she really wouldn’t stop, that really wasn’t cute. Bilbo’s memorial was today and he needed to dwell on other things. He was washing his hair when she came in.

“Come now my prince, you must want me,” she sighed.

“I don’t!” Fili yelled. He’d thought of replacing her, but Thorin didn’t need any more strain and she was harmless. That was, until she brandished the knife.

“If I can’t have you, then none will!” she cried. She whipped out a knife and Fili backed up.

\---

Bilbo was doing well. He was distributing small amounts of coins to the poor. He had given Oin his herbs, patched the small hole in the treasury, given Bifur his mother’s recipe for headaches, pushed Bofur, found spices with Oin’s healing herbs, found Balin’s clothes, saved Dwalin’s life, listened in on a gang (that was scary), did Ori’s translation (that was fun), watched Dori nail Thorin in the stones (that was hilarious), found the locket Thorin had once spoken of (that was just hard), stolen Kili reading material (after he’d read it first), and now just had to do Fili. He knew that he should do things for others too, but he felt the company should come first. He knew that Fili’s maid was getting a little out of hand, so his solution was in his hand, the ink was still drying. Then, he heard the heated conversation through the door. To the fields with propriety. He burst into the door (ring still on) and tackled the woman. She rolled him over and the knife flashed. There was a searing pain in his chest. He knew enough to take off the ring. When he thought he was doomed, something clunked into the woman. Fili was breathing hard and wielding a dented platter. Bilbo fainted.

\---

Bilbo?! Bilbo whose memorial service was going on right now (he was supposed to be there, except for his psychotic maid)? Bilbo needed medical attention! But everyone was at the celebration! He picked up the halfling. He needed pants! Fili! This isn’t the time for unneeded clothing, this is the time for action! He sprinted through the halls, not noticing the screams of dwarrowdams and the whistles of a few. When he burst into the crypts, he could hear uncle talking.

“And I know that Bilbo loved…” he intoned. He burst into the room.

“Uncle!!” he cried. Thorin stopped what he was doing.

\---

His nephew was there, dripping wet, naked. In his arms was the halfling whose service he was leading. Bard had covered the eyes of both his daughters, though the younger one was pleading to see. Thranduil’s eyes looked like they might pop out of his head. Gandalf seemed to be choking.

“I need Oin!” his nephew howled. No, you need some damn clothes...and why are you carrying the halfling? Then he noticed the blood. Oin sprinted forward and took the hobbit. Thranduil cleared his throat and draped his sparkly coat around his nephew. Trust his family to make a dramatic entrance.

\---

Bilbo awoke in a bed. Well, that was unusual. He then smelled smoke. There was Thorin!

“Master Burglar, or should I say stalker?” Thorin asked with a smile.

“I was only trying to help, make up for all the trouble I caused. If you want me gone from the mountain…” Bilbo whispered. He was stopped when he was pulled into his arms.

“Stay?” Thorin almost pleaded. And stay he did. **  
**

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think?


End file.
